d to comfort him.

"He'll be here," he said, patting Hans on the head, "by milking-time,
I warrant; for he is wise enough to take care of himself anywhere."

"Wiser than you," laughed the rest; and they all went off merrily,
leaving the little boy standing in the road.

He scarcely saw them go, for he was thinking of the night so near at
hand, and the winds and the snow-slides. How could the dear dog find
his way through the darkness alone?

"I will go for him in the morning, if he does not come home to-night,"
called the soldier cousin.

But morning seemed very far away to the dog's anxious little master,
and the big tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Just then a thought sprang into his mind, as thoughts will. "Why not
go yourself for him now?" was the thought.

_The Rescue_

Hans clapped his hands joyfully. Of course he could go. He knew the
way, for he had been to the inn only the summer before with his uncle.

The loud winds whistled, and the snowflakes kissed his cheeks and his
nose; but he thought of his playmate and started out bravely.

"Moo! moo!" called the old cow from the stable. Hans knew her voice.
"Bring me my salt," she seemed to say.

"When I come back," he answered, as he struggled up the frozen road.

He was very cold, for he had even forgotten his cap in his haste; but
the snowflakes powdered his hair till he looked as if he wore a white
one.

He could scarcely pucker up his mouth to whistle. His feet were numb
and his fingers tingled, and the wind sang in his ears till he was as
sleepy as sleepy could be.

"I'll sit down and rest," said Hans to himself, "and then I can go
faster." But when he sat down he could not keep his eyes open, and
before many minutes he was fast asleep and lay in a little dark heap
on the white snow.

"Let's cover him up," said the snowflakes, hurrying down; but before
they had time to whiten his clothes a great big beautiful Saint
Bernard dog came bounding down the road.

It was Prince. He had waked up from his nap behind the stove, and
hastened after the soldier cousin as fast as his four feet could carry
him. He was not afraid of the night or the snow, and he was as warm as
toast in his shaggy coat.

He was thinking of Hans as he hurried along--when, suddenly, he spied
him lying there so still by the roadside.

In an instant the good dog sprang to the child's side, barking
furiously, for every dog in Switzerland knows that those who sleep on
sn